


Soul Mates

by ProcrastinatingFangirl94



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 08:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2103414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingFangirl94/pseuds/ProcrastinatingFangirl94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine if you were born with the knowledge of your soulmate’s name</p><p>Johnlock</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soul Mates

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine if you were born with the knowledge of your soulmate’s name but it was a really common name like Chris.  
> The original owner: http://natasaromanoff.tumblr.com/post/83447036720  
> The added on version: http://orphanslot.tumblr.com/post/84042756249/makeyourdeduction-natasaromanoff-imagine-if 
> 
> I read a one shot based off this idea (kinda) with Jily and this popped into my head. I figured this would be interesting, especially with how the characters are on the TV show, so it seemed like the perfect idea to do.
> 
> (I took the dialogue from the original script, so all the dialogue is canon. The rest isn't)

John Watson had constantly tried to hide his name from everyone else, including himself, because he was adamant he wasn’t gay. He’d always loved women. He’d had his first kiss, his first date and several dates, all with women. However, deep within his conscious, he knew he was doing this to spite the faint name etched onto his wrist. Everyone had one, but he’d never been anyone’s. _Yet._ He refused to admit he was gay and that he had a male soul mate.

John had then scoffed at the name close to a million times. Who would name their child Sherlock? Sherlock had to be the most obscure name he’d ever heard of, and yet nobody else had ever heard of it when he’d subtly mentioned it in a conversation. Only pretentious intellects had heard of such a name, causing John to deduce two things: 1. This man didn’t exist and this was just cruel, or 2. The man was a pretentious intellectual asshole, and that really wasn’t John’s type.

He didn’t realise his type wasn’t anything like what he’d wanted. He’d wanted an ordinary girlfriend, but whenever he’d dated one, he’d been bored with them. He’d convinced himself this was what he’d liked. When he’d dated what had appeared to be an ordinary girl, she’d revealed tattoos or a motorcycle, or something equally as rebellious or exhilarating, and he’d liked her much more. His type was something that exhilarated him, or gave him an adrenaline rush. He hated the mundane.

He ended up with more than he’d bargained for.

* * *

_John Watson._

Sherlock Holmes had deduced everything possible out of the name, which wasn’t much. He’d decided a long time ago the name was one of the most common in the world, and that he might as well be dating a John Smith. The man would, in turn, be ordinary. Sherlock didn’t like that. He had had only a handful of partners and they’d either been boring or flatterers. Neither had appealed to him.

Sherlock had been jealous of his brother for not having a name. Sherlock didn’t care about sexuality or relationships, so the idea he had a soul mate and his older brother, who was identical in that matter, didn’t, irked him. He couldn’t place why relationships were so great, or what a man would contribute to his life.

Sherlock was a lone wolf, and he wanted it to stay that way. He didn’t want yet another person to enter his life and consider him an obnoxious asshole because he could deduce an entire person from something as minimal as their tie. He doubted he could bear it if his supposed soul mate reacted that way, so he acted like the name wasn’t there, as a burden rather than a reminder.

He ended up with a companion far greater than he’d ever expected.

* * *

Doctor John Watson had ventured to go for a stroll. He told himself it was because he needed to get used to the hustle and bustle of the city life again. In reality, it was because his tiny flat had to be the most mundane place ever, and he wanted something exciting to happen. It was by pure coincidence he stumbled upon his old colleague Mike, considering he didn’t have any real friends. He lost touch with them years ago.

One thing led to another and there he was, faced with his soul mate.

“Well, bit different from my day,” he commented as he glanced around the laboratory. He didn’t know the man’s name, nor that he was standing mere feet away from his soul mate. All he knew was what he saw in front of him.

Mike chuckled beside him. “You’ve no idea!”

“Mike, can I borrow your phone? There’s no signal on mine,” said Sherlock, too busy to notice John, let alone Mike, as he typed away on his laptop.

“And what’s wrong with the landline?”

“I prefer to text.”

“Sorry. It’s in my coat.”

“Er, here. Use mine,” said John after fishing around in his pockets for his.

“Oh. Thank you,” responded Sherlock, noticing him for the first time. He immediately began deducing him, ignoring his initial judgement of John being a boring, ordinary man.

“It’s an old friend of mine, John Watson,” introduced Mike.

Sherlock had only just begun his deductions when the name struck him. This was _the_ John Watson? _His_ John Watson? Peculiar. He walked over to John and took his phone from him, continuing to deduce him, like he would anyone else. Except, he felt something different towards him. He wouldn’t dare call it love at first sight, because it didn’t exist. However, he did feel rather fond of the man.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock asked as he typed away on John’s phone.

“Sorry?” To say John was confused was an understatement.

“Which was it – Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock inquired once more, hoping John would answer this time. He hated repeating his questions.

“Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know-”

Before John could finish his question, a female walked in. “Ah, Molly, coffee. Thank you.” Sherlock had finished with John’s phone and handed it back to him, before taking the coffee Molly had made. “What happened to the lipstick?” He always noticed little details in people. It helped with his deductions.

“It wasn’t working for me,” Molly responded, smiling awkwardly. Considering John didn’t know, he almost assumed Molly was Sherlock’s girlfriend. Why that bugged him, he wasn’t sure. After all, John Watson was _not_ gay.

“Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth’s too small now.” He grimaced as he took a sip. The coffee was wrong, and not to his liking.

“Okay.” Molly left the room as awkwardly as she’d entered it, deciding to leave rather than continue to embarrass herself.

John was appalled. How someone could treat a human being that way was beyond him. This man certainly seemed like a pretentious asshole.

“How do you feel about the violin?” Sherlock wanted to know more about his supposed soul mate, especially if they were to live together. Maybe they’d find something in common. Couples did that, right?

John glanced at the disappearing Molly, and then a smiling Mike, who looked amused more than anything, before realising Sherlock was asking him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I play the violin when I’m thinking. Sometimes I don’t talk for days on end.” He glances up at John. “Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.” Flatmates. That was a good cover up.

John looked at Mike. “Oh, you…you told him about me?”

“Not a word.” Mike looked smugger, if that was even possible.

“Then who said anything about flatmates?”

Sherlock put on his iconic long grey coat. “I did. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn’t that difficult a leap.” He couldn’t resist showing off. He lived for it. It was as natural to him as breathing.

“How did you know about Afghanistan?”

Sherlock wrapped his scarf snugly around his neck, pretending he hadn’t heard. He didn’t want to scare away the one man he wanted to impress, although he had no idea why he did. “Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it.” He walked towards John, preparing to leave. He had other needs to attend to. “We’ll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o’clock. Sorry – gotta dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary.”

Sherlock headed to the door, on the verge of leaving. John had stood in utter disbelief. He spun around to face Sherlock. “Is that it?”

Sherlock turns on his heel and heads back to John. “Is that what?”

“We’ve only just met and we’re gonna go and look at a flat?”

“Problem?”

John almost wanted to laugh. This had to be a joke. “We don’t know a thing about each other; I don’t know where we’re meeting; I don’t even know your name.”

Sherlock deduced more that he’d previously done so. “I know you’re an Army doctor and you’ve been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you’ve got a brother who’s worried about you but you won’t go to him for help because you don’t approve of him – possibly because he’s an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp’s psychosomatic – quite correctly, I’m afraid.” John looked down at his leg, shuffling awkwardly. “That’s enough to be going on with, don’t you think?” Sherlock walked to the door once more, entering and leaving. However, just as he left, he leaned back in and said, “The name’s Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street.” He winked at John, because he actually liked the man, despite his obvious flaws. “Afternoon.”

Mike raised his hand in farewell as Sherlock finally left the room for good. As he briskly walked away, he knew he’d enjoy this man’s company. John Watson. Perhaps a soul mate wouldn’t do any harm.

John looked at Mike in disbelief. “Yeah. He’s always like that.”

So John had predicted correctly. Sherlock Holmes was an obnoxious asshole. He hardly seemed like the right person for John. They both seemed to be so different. Yet, there he stood, in utter disbelief, over the most astounding man he’d ever met. He loved those vibrant blue eyes of his, with a strong jaw, his formal dress and that billowing coat of his. John could certainly see why anyone would be physically attracted to such a man. But John Watson was _not_ gay.

For the first time in his life, John Watson was having doubts over his sexuality.


End file.
